


Home's the Rover

by DebraHicks



Series: Follow the Light [1]
Category: The Rat Patrol
Genre: Established Relationship, Holocaust, M/M, WWII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26826976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks
Summary: As he promised, Troy finds Dietrich after the war.  But one more nightmare stands between them.Sequel to "Into Darkness Unrelenting"
Relationships: Hans Dietrich/Sam Troy
Series: Follow the Light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956817
Kudos: 8





	Home's the Rover

Hans Dietrich was thankful for the previous day’s rain; it had filled the cistern, which meant he wouldn’t have to haul water up from the well in order to wash. Dietrich reached for the candles near the door; the house was already in darkness, another signal of approaching winter. Despite the growing dark and cold, he felt, for the first time since returning to his family home, that he had not made a mistake in doing so. He had gotten a lot done recently. Along with getting the small house livable, he had brought in nearly seven bushels of potatoes from the field that had gone wild over the past three years.

Twenty minutes later, changed and washed, Dietrich came into the small kitchen. He almost reached for the light switch, stopping only at the last minute. The simple move made him sigh. When he had left home last, over five years before, there had been electricity, even so modern a thing as a gas stove. The gas stove sat dark in the corner, gas being impossible to get. The electricity had been from one of Hitler’s dam projects. The dam was a casualty of the war, taking the electricity with it.

The cupboards revealed a lack of anything remotely appetizing. He felt vaguely ashamed at not being hungry. Despite the Allies’ best efforts, there were still many people starving in the defeated country. Once more, as he had so often since Germany’s surrender, he reminded himself to be thankful for some things, like the fact that his home was located in a section taken by Britain and not in the Russian area, like being able to grow at least a meager amount of food to store and trade. 

Finally, settling on potted meat with some hard bread he’d traded for at the local market, he sat down and forced himself to eat. After dinner he found the book he’d also acquired at the market. Unlike the bread, the book was a treasure, an American Western that had been impossible to find after Hitler’s government had discouraged reading anything but German literature. Wrapping tight in a blanket, Dietrich sank into the single chair he had managed to save from the nearly completely looted house, then propped his feet on an empty wooden crate. Shivering in the blanket, Dietrich considered tossing another log on the fire but decided against it. It wouldn’t help. He hadn’t been warm since coming back to Germany.

Before he could lose himself in the wilds of the American west, though, his eyes were drawn to the hat hanging on a hook near the door. There had been times during the last three years when the sight of the battered, stained bush hat was the only thing that kept him sane. 

Someone had shoveled a path through the two feet of snow from the house to the dirt road. Troy smiled, absently thanking whoever did it, as it would make his short trip much easier.

“If this is the right place, Sarge, give a wave and I’ll bring in the bags,” Tully told him.

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” Troy answered, letting his amusement fill his voice.

Tully only snorted, having already complained about being promoted in “the Yankee army” and how he would never live it down with his relatives. Troy buttoned the top button of his coat with his left hand, opened the door and stepped out. Holding tight to the canes that were his constant companions, he stood for a second to get his balance. Straightening the dark glasses, he headed toward the small house. 

Squinting against the sinking sun allowed him to make out more details about the house. It was a neat German farmhouse, much like a hundred others he had passed recently. This one, thankfully, showed no signs of having been badly damaged. He sighed, offering a silent prayer that this would be the one. Twice before, Troy had thought he was close only to discover that Dietrich was a fairly common German name. 

It had been nearly a year before civilians had been allowed into some areas. Troy knew that was only wise but the waiting, the not knowing had driven him crazy. He had finally resorted to pulling in favors, including calling Major Moffitt and Lieutenant Tully. They had gotten him in touch with some intelligence officers and the rest was a matter of going through all the records he could find concerning an underground agent code named Duststorm. Captain Hans Dietrich, he had learned, was still officially listed as missing in action during the final days of the Africa campaign, his record exemplary and unstained.

Troy was suddenly at the door. Slipping his glasses into his pocket, Troy raised his hand and knocked.

The sound of knocking stopped just as Dietrich came in from feeding the half dozen chickens he had acquired. Unsure of who could be there, he frowned and started for the door. He had already paid the neighbor’s son for shoveling a path to the road. It was an expense he really could not afford but since the widow had four children to feed, he did it anyway. Wiping his hands on a cloth hanging near the wood stove, he went into the front room. Through the window he caught a glimpse of a black car with a white star on the door parked at the road. He sighed. The officials in the area had already been out twice to check his papers; he was beginning to get tired of it.

Frowning, he opened the door. “What may – “  
The world and time came to a halt around him. Dietrich stared, unable to get his mind to acknowledge what he was seeing, unable to comprehend the miracle standing in front of him. 

“You got my hat?” Troy asked.

Though the haze surrounding him Dietrich heard a catch in the rough voice. “Hat?” Dietrich repeated vaguely. 

Troy’s slight smile grew a bit. “You remember? Gave it to you – “

Dietrich watched the crooked smile grow, watched the glitter in the sapphire eyes. Since his voice had deserted him, he took action. Grabbing Troy, Dietrich wrapped him in a bruising hold, jerked him inside the house and kicked the door closed behind them. He held on, not daring to do anything else, reveling in the solid body in his arms, letting the memories carry him away, remembering the feel and smell, the care and desire, remembering light and love.

The sharp sound of Troy’s wooden canes hitting the hard stone floor jarred Dietrich into the present. He reluctantly eased back, maintaining his hold on Troy's arms, keeping him balanced. There were tears in the blue eyes he remembered perfectly.

Dietrich blinked around the mist that insisted on flooding his own eyes. “You found me,” he managed to say, his voice a mere whisper.

Did you th….think… I... I wouldn’t?” Troy asked, the stammer giving away his excitement. 

Dropping his eyes a little, Dietrich didn’t want to let Troy know the truth. A hand came up under his chin. When he looked up, there was guilt on Troy’s face as well.  
“Tim...times....” Troy paused, took a deep breath. “Times when I didn’t think so either.”

With the shock slowly fading, Dietrich once more found himself moving forward, intent on kissing the apparition. Before he could complete the move, there was a faint knock at the door. 

Troy jumped guiltily. “Tully,” he said. “Has the bags.”

Taking a deep breath of his own, Dietrich nodded. Making sure Troy was steady with a hand on the wall, he opened the door. Tully, another member of the infamous Rat Patrol, was standing there patiently, a small knapsack in each hand. They regarded each other warily for a minute.

“Lieutenant,” Dietrich finally said politely. “Please come in.”

Tully gave him an appraising look, then a quiet smile. “How are ya, Captain.”

The three stood awkwardly for a moment. It took a minute for Dietrich to once more find his control; all his thoughts kept turning to the fact that Troy was actually standing next to him. Tully came in far enough to sit the bags down.

“Nice place, Captain.”

Blinking at how odd it felt to have that title again, Dietrich nodded. “Thank you. Please sit. I don’t have much to offer you in the way of –“

Tully was shaking his head. “Sorry, sir, but I have to get back to base.” He grinned and Dietrich remembered seeing that particular smile a few times in the past. “The car is... uh, borrowed.”

For some reason, the simple, characteristic statement broke through Dietrich’s shock. He started laughing. That seemed to surprise the American lieutenant, who glanced at Troy as if to ask if Dietrich had been in the Sahara a bit too long. Troy only shrugged with a smile of his own. 

“Your pardon, Lieutenant, but the statement was just so... typical,” Dietrich explained.

Pulling a toothpick out of his shirt pocket, Tully returned the smile. “Yep.” Turning to Troy he asked, “When you want a ride back, Sarge?”

Dietrich found himself suddenly holding his breath, the future, which had seemed so far away, suddenly right in front of him. Troy glanced at him, then said, “Don’t worry about it, Tully. I’ll get back.”

Once more Dietrich felt Tully’s gaze on him, but he was watching Troy, trying to find something to say. Weakly, he offered, “I don’t have a vehicle but we can use the neighbor’s wagon.”

“Good enough,” Tully said firmly, obviously reaching a decision. He extended his hand and Dietrich took it. “Captain.”

Then Dietrich and Troy were alone.

Troy stared at his companion, trying not to let his dismay show. Dietrich was as thin and pale as he remembered from their time with the slavers. He had seen how hard things were in the occupied territories but seeing his friend like this hurt. Taking a step forward, he raised his hand toward Dietrich’s cheek. Dietrich caught it, kissing along Troy’s palm and wrist before pressing it to his chest.

A wavering smile crept across Troy’s face. “I missed you.”

Dietrich was silent, swallowing hard several times, his grip tightening around Troy’s hand. They stood that way for a long dozen heartbeats, fighting the tears and smiles. Dietrich lowered his head, trying to hide the tears that wouldn’t be stopped. 

Reaching up with his weak hand, Troy brushed them off the high cheekbone. The gesture seemed to give Dietrich strength, as he took a deep breath and stepped a little closer.

Long fingers brushed up and over Troy’s eyes. “You can see?”

Troy smiled. “Mostly. You wouldn’t want to give me a loaded weapon –“

“I heard that you are actually quite impressive with a gun, even blind,” Dietrich joked.

Troy stepped close, kissed along Dietrich’s soft lips. “I can see the beautiful brown of your eyes.” With a laugh, he added, “And that blush.”

“Men do not blush,” Dietrich stated firmly.

The first kiss was slow, warm, filled with longing and assurance. Troy wrapped his arms tightly around the lean body, pulled Dietrich as close as he could, pressing their bodies together. Dietrich’s tongue filled his mouth and he moaned deep in his throat. The kiss deepened, building, taking Troy back to Sahara heat and moonlit nights. Dietrich was holding him up now as he leaned against him, rubbing hard along a muscled thigh. He wanted to resist, had wanted their first time back together to be slow and romantic, like their last, but need too long denied drove them on, drove their groins together.

Dietrich’s hold tightened, becoming almost painful. Troy staggered a little as he pushed even closer, slipping his tongue deep into Dietrich’s hot mouth, savoring the well-remembered taste, the heat and desire. With Dietrich holding him up, Troy eased his hand down to the hard bulge in Dietrich’s pants. Dietrich arched back, breaking the kiss with a low cry. Troy wanted to get to his knees, wanted to take Dietrich into his mouth, wanted to feel the power in Dietrich’s coming but the pulse he could feel through the thin, worn pants told him he wouldn’t have time for that.

Jerking Dietrich back to him, Troy kissed along his neck as his hand pressed against Dietrich’s cloth-covered cock. After two strong strokes, he shifted up, nearly hanging on Dietrich to maintain his balance, and again drove his tongue into Dietrich’s welcoming mouth. Dietrich gasped, stiffened, the cock under Troy’s hand twitched, and warm fluid soaked the cloth under his hand, a spot blossoming on the dark gray pants. Troy pulled back, squinting to bring Dietrich into focus as the last of his orgasm tore through him. Then Dietrich sagged against him and they both ended up kneeling on the floor, holding each other up.

Troy watched color once again flood Dietrich’s features. For the first time he noticed how fair the German was without the desert tan to hide it. He stroked along one cheek, kissed him lightly.

“That was not at all what I had in mind,” Dietrich complained, gesturing down toward the dark spot on his pants. 

Laughing quietly, Troy admitted, “Not exactly romantic.”

“I dreamed of holding you again,” Dietrich said, tightening his arms around Troy.

“And I dreamed of a long night in a bed,” Troy quipped, needing, for the moment, to step away. He wanted nothing more than to just continue to kneel there holding Dietrich, but he knew there was more that they needed between them than sex. “Tonight.”

Dietrich actually looked embarrassed, and seemed to be pointedly ignoring the fact that there was not a wet place on Troy’s pants. Troy let it go, for the moment, he was more than happy to just let himself rest in Dietrich’s arms.

“We have all our lives,” Troy said.

The deep brown eyes that met his were filled with disbelief and sorrow, as if Dietrich knew that nothing good could last. Troy understood the feeling, but he had found Dietrich, and now nothing was going to stop them from staying together.

“Damn, Dietrich,” Troy said. “You’re as thin as in the desert.”

Dietrich straightened sharply, giving him a glare. “Food is not --”

“Help me up,” Troy requested. “I’ll fix us something.”

Now a touch of regret joined Dietrich’s hint of anger. “There is very little in the cupboards at the moment.”

“Good thing I brought my own,” Troy remarked.

Once more Troy could feel the care in Dietrich’s touch as the taller man made sure he was balanced on his knees before he stood. When Dietrich came up, Troy found himself staring directly at his stained pants. He looked up, once again squinting a little, and a slight laugh escaped him. 

Dietrich’s hands slipped under his shoulders and hoisted him up, and into another hard hug. Troy was laughing now, a real deep laugh filled with relief and happiness and a touch of disbelief. They were together. 

“Have any eggs?” Troy requested from the stove.

Dietrich stepped to the cabinet and pulled out two eggs, handing them to Troy without comment. He had gone to clean up after his rather embarrassing show upon Troy’s arrival only to emerge to find Troy had stoked up the stove and was proceeding to throw things into a pan. A can of spam sat on the edge of the stove, near the sink. As he watched the eggshells landed next to the can, followed a moment later by a cheese rind.

“What are you making?” The words sounded so normal, as if there wasn’t a miracle standing in the kitchen with him. 

“Omelet,” Troy said with a smile. “Or at least what passes for one when you don’t have all the right stuff – spam instead of ham, hard cheese instead of cheddar.”

Slowly the normalcy of the conversation was starting to clear some of Dietrich’s shock. “It sounds as if you are familiar with cooking.”

“I was a cook at my family’s restaurant before the war,” Troy declared matter-of-factly.

Dietrich was startled, staring at the man. After a second of silence, Troy turned toward him. “What?”

Shaking himself out of his surprise, Dietrich said, “I just can’t see you as a chef.”

That brought a laugh from Troy, one that sent a shiver of remembrance down Dietrich’s back. “Not many Americans were soldiers first. Were just regular guys.”

Nodding, Dietrich said, “I was aware of that. It is just a bit hard to remember sometimes, considering how well you fought.”

A quick, crooked smile. “Americans were always scrappy.”

The lightness of the conversation seemed even more unreal than the fact that Troy was with him. Dietrich studied Troy, just as Troy had stared at him in the other room. Troy looked fit, dressed in plain black slacks under a dark blue shirt. He frowned, looking down at his own worn clothes, at the paper-thin pants and oft-patched flannel shirt. Thoughts on the differences in their clothes lead to the thoughts on the three years that had gone before, three years that could not be denied.

“How did you find me?” Dietrich asked, his stomach rumbling slightly at the smell of the food.

“Long story.”

That made Dietrich smile. “You said we have all our lives, so why not take the time?”

Troy sighed, and Dietrich worried that perhaps he had asked the wrong question, though he wasn’t sure why. Just as Troy took a breath to start though, the answer came to him. 

“It took –“

“My apologizes, I just realized that it might not be something you are comfortable talking about.”

Troy stared at him for a moment. “It’s not so bad.” Turning back to his cooking, Troy said, “I was shipped to England, spent two months in the hospital trying to get better.”

For a minute there was only the sound of the fork scraping on the iron pan. “After they decided…decided that it was good as it…. Was get…. Getting….I was discharged.”

The hesitation in the gravelly voice let Dietrich know that it had not been as easy as Troy wanted him to believe. He offered no comment though, knowing how stubborn and prideful the other man could be. 

“They wanted to ship me home,” Troy continued. “I didn’t want to go.”

Dietrich stood to get the plates setting on the counter but Troy moved to reach them, gripping the counter and keeping his balance easily. 

“I took a job in a pub, pouring drinks and cooking.” He looked over at Dietrich and smiled. “May not be a chef but I could do a better job than those Limeys. Joes started coming in after I got there. Anyway, I was patient –“

Dietrich gave a snort. “I find that very hard to believe.”

“Hey, we all learn something new,” Troy defended. “I started asking questions, mailing the Red Cross, trying to contact someone who might have known you through the underground.”

He divided the meal into two equal piles, handed both plates to Dietrich. “Where to?” 

With a shake of his head, Dietrich admitted. “There is no dining table. Only a few wooden crates –“

“Guess you’d better drag a chair in here, then,” Troy said, obviously not bothered by Dietrich’s situation.

A minute later, with Troy perched on the stool and Dietrich with the plate in his lap, they started eating. Dietrich took a bite and was suddenly starving. He wolfed down half the meal before realizing that Troy was silent. Looking up, he was chagrined to find Troy staring at him with a huge smile.

“I uh….” Dietrich tried to defend, then merely gave up and took another bite.

“Nice to know you like my cooking as well as… my cooking,” Troy joked. “Better slow down though, I don’t want you sick, would ruin my plans for later.”

Taking a deep breath, Dietrich forced himself to take a smaller bite on the next fork. “So, you were in England when the war ended and….”

“And after stumbling around for nearly a year trying to get answers, I gave up and started calling in favors,” Troy admitted. “The war ending helped. People were more willing to tell me things.”

Troy was suddenly very interested in his meal, though Dietrich noted, he only pushed the food around on the plate. When he looked at Dietrich again, there was old pain in the blue eyes. “I was star…starting to th…think you were dead.”

Shame flooded Dietrich at the number of times he had almost wished that. He laid his hand on Troy’s knee and said, “You should know, I am hard to kill.”

“Yeah,” Troy agreed. “I talked to my old commander and Major Moffitt…”

“Major!” Dietrich said. “That is well-deserved, I would think. I was always impressed with Moffitt’s intelligence and loyalty.”

“He’s still that way,” Troy said. “And he pulled in a few favors – and here I am.”

Dietrich stared at him. “That was it?”

With an embarrassed smile, Troy said, “Well, there are two other Dietrichs out there who were very surprised to find an American lieutenant and a civilian on their doorsteps.”

Dietrich laughed and they finished their meal in comfortable silence, broken by slight smiles at each other. 

It was nearing dark by the time they finished the comfortable meal. Dietrich took the dishes, waving Troy down when he offered to help. “Why don’t you go into the other room? I will take care of it. It is only fair since you did the cooking.”

Troy gave him a smile that went all the way to his heart, leaving him again lost in wonderful memories that made the gathering cold unimportant. He saw the slight shiver that Troy tried to hide, though. Despite his time in England it was obvious that Troy was not used to the killing cold of a German winter.

“I will start a fire as soon as I’m finished here,” he told Troy.

“I’ll get it,” Troy volunteered, moving easily toward the living room, the canes an extension of his arms. Over his shoulder he casually offered, “Don’t think we’ll need it for long. Can probably think of better ways to warm up a room.”

Dietrich was startled at the heat he could feel rise in his face, even more startled by the jerk of his cock against pants that were already feeling too tight. Shaking his head, he took the dishes to the sink, trying to think of anything but the handsome American in the other room. 

Despite trying to distract himself, he finished the washing quickly, coming back into the main room in time to see the first of the larger logs start to smoke. Troy was sitting in the chair, eyes nearly closed, lost in his contemplation of the fire. Grabbing the wood box, Dietrich dragged it over closer to Troy and the fire. Before he sat down, though, he moved around, gathering the few candles and single lamp that he had. He put the candles in a few spots around the room, left the lamp for when they started for bed.

That mere thought brought yet another twitch from his cock, and a chuckle from his companion. “Having some interesting thoughts there, Dietrich?”

“Not at all,” Dietrich lied smoothly. “Merely contemplating a relaxing few hours by the fire.”

“Parts of you have other ideas,” Troy observed.

Dietrich straightened from where he was setting down the last candle. Before he could think of a good reply, he made the mistake of turning to face Troy. His breath caught at the crooked, dangerous smile on Troy’s lips. God, he remembered that smile, remembered the threat and the promise that it held. He was moving without thinking, coming down in front of Troy only to lean up. Troy met him halfway and they were suddenly locked into a searing kiss.

He remembered this feeling, remembered the love, the heat, the solid body in his arms. The memories that had carried him when his honor and will deserted him surged to the front, filled him with the love he had so long denied. 

“Troy…. God, I thought of you so often…. wondered if you were alive, happy.” Tears held back from falling found his voice. 

Troy eased back, the smile turning gentle. “I’m here,” Troy assured him. “I’ll always –“

Once more Dietrich kissed him, tongue running deep into Troy’s mouth, tasting, savoring. Troy’s hand came up, held the back of his head as his other hand started unbuttoning Dietrich’s white shirt. Dietrich eased away, staring into the fire-lit blue eyes that haunted and blessed his dreams. There was the slightest sheen of mist there as well. Dietrich smiled, feeling the love start to thaw some of the chill that had seemed a permanent part of his soul. 

Troy’s fingers brushed over his nipple and he gasped. “Troy, if we do not move into the bedroom soon, I’m afraid there will be a repeat of this afternoon.”

Grinning at him, Troy asked, “You got a bed in there?”

Tilting his head down, Dietrich kissed along the side of Troy’s neck. “Yes. It was too big for the looters to carry off.”

“Thank goodness for small favors,” Troy quipped. “Help me up.”

Dietrich came to his feet, reached down to help Troy only to be waved off. “Just put your arm out.”

Bracing himself, Dietrich put his arm parallel to Troy. Reaching up and grabbing his forearm, Troy brought himself gracefully up, balancing for an instant, then shifting his weight to let most of it rest against Dietrich. Smiling, he said, “Lead on, McDuff.”

Having no idea what the statement was in reference to, Dietrich let Troy lean against him as he moved them toward the bedroom. 

The darkness was broken by the light spilling from the other room. Dietrich led Troy to the bed, made sure he was seated, then moved back into the other room to put out the candles. He brought the lamp back in with him. When he came back, Troy was letting his second shoe drop. Dietrich moved to help him stand but was once more waved off. Troy grabbed the high headboard, hoisted himself up. While Dietrich nervously watched, Troy used his good hand to undo his belt and the zipper on his pants. He sat back down with surprising grace and took off his pants but left on his shorts. With a wicked smile, he tossed them casually onto the chest Dietrich had in the corner.

As he started on the shirt buttons, Dietrich moved. "Please, let me,” he requested as he knelt in front of Troy.

The night dark eyes glittered down at him. "My pleasure."

"Debatable,” Dietrich said, slipping the first two buttons open. 

He got no further than that, leaning in and kissing along Troy’s exposed neck. Troy's skin was soft and warm, lighter than it had been in the desert. Opening another two buttons, he eased the cloth back enough to lick across the collarbone, tonguing over the badly healed break before sucking on the junction of neck and shoulder. Troy gasped, moaning softly, hands stroking down Dietrich's back.

"I dreamed of you so often,” Dietrich muttered.

Pulling away, he undid the last of the buttons with shaking hands. Troy's hand came over to cover his, stilling his trembling. "No more yesterday. Together now."

Dietrich took a deep breath, lost in the love shining from Troy's eyes. "I'm still having trouble believing it, believing you are really here."

Troy grabbed Dietrich by the shoulders, pulled him close enough for Troy to wrap his arms around Dietrich's shoulders. He leaned down and kissed Dietrich, hard, deep, letting everything they had meant to each other in the desert, everything he hoped the future held, be told in that single kiss. When he eased away, Troy was smiling.

"Believe it,” Troy grated out.

Dietrich nodded, not trusting his voice. Holding Troy's steady gaze, he shoved the shirt off his shoulders and tossed it to join the pants on the chest. Troy moved, shifting up in the bed, laying flat. As Dietrich let his eyes scan lovingly over the strong body, a shiver went down Troy's muscles.

"I'd better put some more wood on --"

Catching Dietrich's hand as he went to rise, Troy said huskily, "Not cold. That look you were giving me…” 

The look Troy was giving him caused a similar reaction to shoot up Dietrich's spine. He straightened up and reached for his shirt. Before he could get it completely off, he gave into the lust driving him and leaned over to once more taste and touch, kissing over the scars on Troy's chest, down the flat stomach. Before he could get any further, though, Troy moved, pushing himself up and pulling Dietrich into the bed with him. Dietrich took the hint, sitting with his back against the headboard. Smiling, Troy moved to sit in front of him, reaching for his shirt.

Dietrich tried to help, tried to hurry him along, but Troy would have none of it, merely pushing his hands away. “My turn.” With a wry smile, he added, “Guess it’d be faster to let you do the pants.”

For the next few minutes all of Dietrich’s world narrowed down to the slow, warm dance of Troy helping him disrobe, of the soft kisses and wet licks, of moans from both of them, and the way the lamplight glittered in Troy’s dark eyes. By the time he managed to lie flat and slip the pants off, his cock was hard and ready. Troy smiled wickedly at him, running a single finger up his shaft.

With a moan, Dietrich moved to return the touch, only to find Troy’s cock limp and still. Memories from the desert filling him, flashes of the gentle orgasms that would take Troy came back to him. He swallowed hard, ashamed that he had forgotten that Troy was not able to achieve an erection, worried suddenly over how he could make things good for his … He shook off the word he wanted to use, knowing it was too permanent a thing.

Troy’s hand covered his. Dietrich looked up, surprised. The smile was back on Troy’s lips. “I’ve learned a few tricks in three years.”

The look of surprise on his face amused Troy, who laughed as he leaned over to claim Dietrich in another kiss. Dietrich sucked on Troy’s tongue, lost in the flesh under his hands. When they eased apart, Troy pushed him back to lay flat. Sliding around, Troy grabbed a small cloth bag that Dietrich had earlier noticed resting on the night table. 

As he sat the bag on the pillow though, Troy’s smile faded away. He glanced at the bag, then at Dietrich. Bringing his hand up, Dietrich stroked down Troy’s cheek.

“Tell me,” he asked.

As direct as always, Troy looked up at him. “No…not fair. To ask you to… There’s.. still a lot. I can’t do.”

Dietrich kissed him, running his lips gently over Troy’s. “I don’t care. I love you.” He smiled. “And, if it means doing anything to make you happy, I’m sure I won’t be at all put out.”

Troy returned his smile, leaning over to return the kiss. Looking both hopeful and a little embarrassed, Troy opened the bag. “I can get… get it up but it takes. A lot of stimulation.” He took Dietrich’s hand, kissed his fingers.

Slightly amused at the flush on Troy’s cheeks, Dietrich took the jar and said very seriously, “I believe I can handle the matter.”

The solemn tone was their undoing. Troy glanced up into Dietrich’s eyes and laughed. Dietrich followed suit, laughing until need drove them together in a hot kiss. When they pulled back, Dietrich felt Troy slip something else into his hand. He looked down at a heavy metal cock ring. Troy reached over and hit a small snap on the side, opening it.

“Helps,” he said bluntly. “Once I’m ready…. Nnneed you. Put that on.”

Nodding Dietrich looked up and said, “I understand. You’ll have to tell me when.” 

“Yeah,” Troy said, moving to take him in another kiss.

Dietrich shifted back. “I have one request, Troy.” He let his hand drift down to the soft cock. “Once this has been achieved, I want you to take me.”

A blinding smile answered his statement. “I was hoping… hoping you’d say that.”

They melted together, kissing, exploring, remembering the desert wind and shifting sand under them, the moonlight through a silk tent. The heat built in Dietrich’s nerves like the desert wind had. Easing his tongue deep into Troy’s mouth, he was answered with a hot moan and Troy pushing up against him, his whole body rubbing across Dietrich’s. 

In a husky voice, Dietrich said, “Roll over.”

“Not yet,” Troy insisted. “Need… to have you ready.”

Any thoughts on what he needed to do were cut short by Troy urging him onto his back. With one hand planted firmly on Dietrich’s chest to hold him still, Troy started kissing his way down Dietrich’s chest. Dietrich relaxed back, letting Troy lead.

“Troy,” he warned quietly, “too much and you may be finishing alone.”

A chuckled answered that, the humor making Troy’s eyes glitter in the lamplight. “Nice to know I. Still have my touch.”

To Dietrich’s disappointed relief, Troy stopped the slow licks down his stomach. “Roll over,” he repeated Dietrich’s order. “Then up.”

Dietrich followed the instructions, nearly trembling with expectation and hoping that he could hold off long enough to let Troy take him. There was a brush of flesh against his hips then the wet touch of Troy’s tongue down the cleft of his ass. He cried out in surprise, in memories and passion. “Troy….”

A wicked chuckle that has often carried him through dreams sounded behind him. “Little impatient, huh?”

Dietrich wanted to shout yes, wanted to yell at Troy to fuck him with his mouth and fingers as he had in the desert, but he fought all those responses down to say with more calm than he felt, “I could come just by looking at you.”

There was no answer, just another slow swipe of Troy’s tongue and the hint of lips on the entrance to his body, the strong hands holding his cheeks apart. Dietrich dropped his head down to his arms, shoving back. The touches vanished. Before he could demand their return, he heard the cap on the jar being unscrewed. He took a deep breath, eased it out slowly, knowing what was coming and trying desperately to regain control before it happened. 

Troy’s fingers, warm and greasy followed the path his mouth had made. Dietrich gasp, despite being ready for it. He shoved back, and Troy pushed two fingers into him, sending the grease into his body, slicking the inside passage with firm, deep strokes.

“Oh, dear God… Troy… yes….”

The fingers pulled out, thrust back in and Dietrich gave up any hope of talking under the waves of lust surging through him. He pushed back, demanding more – and Troy pulled away.

Dietrich looked over his shoulder. “Why….”

Troy was kneeling behind him, panting, desire turning his eyes black. “Damn, Dietrich, I could come just. By doing that to you.”

Fighting to get his own breathing back under control, Dietrich eased himself down. He could feel the slick gel leaking out, running down one cheek. It was a wonderfully erotic touch. More exciting than that was the sight of Troy’s partially risen cock. Shifting around, still belly down, Dietrich pushed up on his elbows and kissed slowly along the risen flesh.

With a smile, Troy lay back. “Want to see you.”

The heat was too much to fight, the order in the gravelly voice too firm. Dietrich grabbed one of the pillows, sliding it under Troy’s ass. Grabbing the headboard, Troy shifted, spreading his legs. Dietrich took a deep breath at the sight, at the accompanying surge of lust that went through his cock. Stretching out between Troy’s legs, he reached for the partially risen cock with one hand while he moved the other over the tight entrance to the handsome body.

Once more memories took him as he remembered the wet touch of Troy’s mouth, the way talented fingers had driven him into an incredible high. With a quick smile up, he bent his head and started to slowly lick the soft flesh, down the taut strip behind the shaft. A muffled cry of approval sounded from Troy. One-handed, Dietrich reached for the open jar sitting on the pillow next to Troy. 

Swirling his tongue around the soft cock, Dietrich scooped out a large quantity of the slick gel and spread it from the base of Troy’s shaft to the tight entrance. Easing his fingers down, he slicked the heavy gel over the ridged muscle, pulling up enough to see the way it shone in the pale lamplight. His gaze shifted to Troy, to the blue eyes slitted with impatience. Slowly, Dietrich eased one finger through, pushing the gel in deep. He crooked his finger, tightening on the ring of muscle from the inside. Troy gasped, eyes closing and breath picking up speed.

Dietrich rimmed the inside of the muscle, slicking Troy down before slipping another finger into the hot body. Troy’s hand came down, tangling in his hair, stroking down his cheek. He shifted up, to better watch Troy as he slid his fingers in until his palm was flat to Troy’s ass. For a minute, he just held there, amazed at the wealth of feelings that flooded him. Desire traced along his nerves, sent his pulse up, made his already full cock twitch and ache, all without the slightest touch from Troy. 

He moved his fingers, pressing up, searching for the small gland that he knew Troy needed to have stimulated. The tips of his fingers brushed over it, and Troy arched back, moaning. 

“Ye…yeah….there,” Troy gasped.

Chuckling, Dietrich said, “I thought as much.”

The remark earned him a smile but anything Troy might have wanted to say was cut off as Dietrich pressed harder. “God….”

Waves of heat gathered along Dietrich’s nerves, filled his cock, burning away any patience. He started moving his fingers, pressing, stroking. The response was immediate. Troy arched back, urging him deeper, whimpering with need. Dietrich shoved a third finger inside, moving faster – and watching in pleasure as Troy’s cock filled. Troy was big, wide and long, the circumcised head large and flared. Dietrich moaned a little himself as he watched; images of taking Troy filled his mind to be overtaken by the idea of Troy taking him. He thrust a little harder at that thought, at the imagined feel of Troy’s cock sliding into him.

Shifting up, he licked at the solid flesh, overwhelmed that he could do this to Troy, that a promise made so many years before in the desert heat of Africa could find fulfillment in the cold of Germany. It was only the fire in his veins that kept the tears at bay. 

“Now,” Troy ordered hoarsely.

Groping for the ring, Dietrich let it warm in his clenched hand for a minute before slipping it around the base of Troy’s cock. It closed with a sharp click, nearly lost under the pants of pleasure from Troy. Dietrich leaned forward, drawn to the cock like a miner to light. Slowly, with infinite delight, Dietrich tasted Troy’s cock. Troy’s right hand tangled in his hair, stroking even as Dietrich licked around the hard head, down the solid shaft. With a smile at Troy, he sucked the head into his mouth.

It was as good as he had imagined, the taste sharp and touched with salt. The cock was heavy on his tongue, filling his mouth. He choked a little, trying to take all of it, as Troy had done him. Troy cried out as he swallowed around it. Distracted by the incredible feel, Dietrich realized he had stopped moving his fingers. Carefully, he pressed down on the spot again, stroking the hot velvet that surrounded his fingers. Troy shoved up, moaning, pressing deeper into Dietrich’s mouth. Dietrich pulled back, sucking and licking.

“Stop,” Troy pleaded. “Too much.”

Dietrich eased off, stretching his fingers out before withdrawing them. Troy’s blue eyes met his and he was lost to the passion smoldering in the gaze. “I love you,” Dietrich said quietly.

Troy’s hand drifted down his cheek and the dangerous smile that Dietrich remembered so well lifted his mouth. “I know.”

“I’m ready,” Dietrich said, pushing up to take Troy’s mouth again.

Troy answered him by sliding down on the pillows until he was lying mostly flat, his cock sticking up straight and ready. He reached over and handed the jar to Dietrich. Dietrich smiled, understanding, as he had so often, without needing the words. Taking the jar, he slicked Troy’s cock, giving it a fine coat of the shiny gel. There was no more need for words. Throwing a leg over Troy, Dietrich shifted back, taking the ready shaft into his slightly trembling hand.

He let his weight carry him down, held Troy’s cock steady as it shoved against muscle. Even as he felt Troy’s cock forced through the opening, he was watching Troy, watching the relief and joy playing across the handsome features. There was the briefest feeling of pain, then the most extraordinary sensations he had ever known. He gasped, holding his breath; they were joined and all his senses narrowed to that single reality. There was pressure, then a jolt of electricity through his nerves as the hot flesh pressed hard against that single perfect spot. Dietrich cried out, heard it echoed by Troy.

There was the temptation to slam down, to drive Troy’s cock as far as it would go into his willing body, but a lifetime of control stopped him. He looked down, saw the way Troy’s teeth were tight on his bottom lip, his eyes closed. Dietrich wanted to come, wanted to pump against the shaft filling him, but more than that, more than anything he could think of was the idea of making it perfect for Troy. Leaning forward, he moved until he felt the large head holding him open. Dietrich gasped, coming all the way down, feeling the hard balls and hint of metal against his ass. He sat back, driving the cock deep, then pulling off far enough to kiss Troy, his tongue shoving in, fucking Troy’s mouth as Troy’s cock shoved into his ass.

He jerked back, moaning, moving, coming down to counter each of Troy’s thrusts. Troy cried out, arching up, grinding, twisting the cock in the tight passage. It was too much - the movement, the fire etching along his nerves drove all thoughts from Dietrich’s mind. He was lost, all intentions forgotten as instinct took over. Troy slammed into him again, his lover’s control abandoned to passion.

Dietrich’s reality narrowed down to sensation, to the incredible feel of steel and velvet, to wet heat and jolting electricity, to the soft sound of oiled flesh on flesh. Somewhere far away someone was whimpering, calling his name. His answer was to move faster, to give himself to instinct and lust, to desert winds. He remembered this heat, remembered the wind and soft sigh of his name, remembered the love. The passion gathered, centered, took  
his breath. 

From somewhere he found a touch of control, enough to let him force his eyes open, enough to let him watch ecstasy take Troy. It was as perfect as he knew it would be – Troy’s eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth slightly open, a hint of white teeth showing, his breath coming in hard pants punctuated by whimpering words. 

Troy arched back. “Dietrich!”

Dietrich felt the big cock deep in his body spasm. It was the final touch, the last thing his burning body could take; he slammed down as he grabbed his own cock, felt it jerk in his hand, white fluid shooting out, spattering across Troy’s chest. There was nothing after that expect the attempt to breathe and trying to stop the world from spinning around him. He felt himself sag down, felt Troy’s warm body under him. Both their chests were heaving, trying to find air.

Gradually, he recovered his breath and his focus. Dietrich shifted, rolling to his side, moaning a little as he felt Troy’s cock slip free. Troy took a deep breath, sighed it out. Dietrich looked up to see a lazy, pleased smile on the dangerous lips. 

“Damn,” Troy said huskily.

The word seemed both perfect and inadequate. Dietrich laughed, throwing one arm across Troy’s wide chest while he laid his head on his shoulder. Gently, he reached down and eased the silver cockring off Troy’s softening shaft.

Staring at the metal piece, then up into sparkling blue eyes, Dietrich whispered, “Thank you.”

After a large yawn, Troy managed to ask, “For what?”

Dietrich kissed Troy’s chest. “For being here.”

“Thanks for staying alive.” Troy shifted a little to kiss Dietrich’s forehead. 

It was a challenge to not react to that, to not let the dark nights and darker thoughts show on his face. He managed to smile, to roll a little away. “I think a little clean-up is in order if we are going to manage to sleep in this bed.”

Moving his ass a little, Troy chuckled. “Yeah, kind of sticky here.”

With a quick kiss to Troy’s lips, Dietrich moved out of bed, taking the lamp and going to the kitchen. As he stepped into the main room, he noticed how much colder it was in the rest of the house. He was shivering by the time he returned to the room a few minutes later, a wet cloth in one hand and a dry cloth in the other. Moving to the bed, he carefully used both to clean Troy and the sheets. If he expected protest, he was disappointed, as Troy actually seemed to enjoy it. Troy had his eyes closed but there was a smile on his lips that hinted at contented satisfaction. Dietrich crawled up next to him, taking the smile as his own. 

Troy slipped one hand behind Dietrich’s head, deepening the kiss. When they eased gently apart, Dietrich could only shake his head.

Tenderly, Troy ran his hand down Dietrich’s cheek. “We made it.”

Turning down the lamp beside them, Dietrich wrapped himself around Troy’s warmth. “I love you.”

Dietrich came out of the nightmare in startled, trembling, complete silence. If he had learned anything during eight years of fighting, it was to always be quiet until he had his location figured out. The situation he was in came back in a rush of emotions – Troy sleeping next to him, the sex, the surprise and, most importantly, the love. But the dark images from the dream had followed him, bringing a wave of sorrow, guilt and shame.

Sighing, he rolled over to face Troy. His old enemy was sleeping on his side, his face lovingly framed by the meager moonlight though the cracked glass of the window. For an instant he wanted to touch Troy, to make sure he was real, not some desperate wish. He stopped, his hand just shy of Troy’s hair, not wanting to wake him. Dietrich frowned, wondering if Troy, like most other survivors, had his own nightmares, his own dark memories.  
That thought brought another, one he had acknowledged during the shared evening - this was not the same man he had nursed in the desert. While the scars remained, while the outward signs would make it seem that Troy was now crippled, Dietrich knew better. With a wry smile, he realized that Troy was still the man he had fought against and with in the Sahara so long ago. Physically, Troy might be different but the same spirit and energy had shone out of the blue eyes tonight. 

Dietrich was the one who had changed, the one who was so different - too different. And the difference was not one that would go away, not one that could be overcome with crutches and dark glasses. He closed his eyes against the images that flickered through his mind, against the sights that had killed his spirit, that had taken everything from him – everything but the love of one stubborn American. The worst of it was he knew that the same horrors that had taken his spirit would eventually take Troy’s too. Why would he want to stay when it became clear that the man Dietrich was now was not who he had been?

Tears threatened but Dietrich held them at bay. No, he didn’t want to see Troy’s love slowly die in the cold reality that was Dietrich’s world. Better to explain it to him now, make him see 5r4t657the nightmares. With the decision made, Dietrich sighed, allowing himself to reach out and very lightly touch Troy’s dark hair spread out on the pillow. 

Tomorrow he would make Troy understand he had to leave.

Something had been wrong all morning, and Troy had no idea what it was. It was as if Dietrich were purposely trying to distance himself. The mere suggestion of a walk in the cold winter day had seemed strange. Troy had countered that he would help Dietrich in the field. The offered had been rejected. Troy had also gotten the feeling that had he not agreed to accompany Dietrich, his lover would have gone alone.

Still, the silence was edging into his nerves. “Damn,” Troy complained. “Can’t we find someplace that isn’t cold as an iceberg or as hot as hell?"

To his chagrin, Dietrich immediately looked concerned. “We should go back. It is far—“

Anger rose in Troy’s nerves, brought on by the sudden worry over Dietrich's mood. “I’m not an invalid! I have –” Before Dietrich could take a breath, Troy held up his hand. “Sorry. Sorry.”

Dietrich didn’t say anything, only turned back to the narrow trail. Troy took a deep breath of the sharp winter air. “Somet… some…times in the hos.. hospital. I got a little too much care.”

The tall German stopped, half-turned with a soft smile on his face. “My apologizes, Troy, I’m having a hard time remembering you are not the wounded soldier I took care of those many months.”

Troy came up next to him, careful not to touch, despite the miles of woods that probably stood between them and anyone else. “Well, guess a little “too much” from the right person might not be so bad.” Seriously, he added, “I don’t like having everything done for me. I’ve gotten better since leaving the hospital because I had to learn to do it myself.”

The deep brown eyes met his, studying him closely, though Troy didn’t understand what answer Dietrich was seeking. Dietrich turned away, continued down the narrow walk. Troy followed him in the solid silence. He was beginning to think just showing up at the German’s door might not have been the best thing to do.

Despite the coating of pristine snow, Troy could see the scars of war still worn by the countryside. There was a section of trees lying flattened; an unplowed field next to them showed the tell-tales of bomb craters. Even the snow-flecked dirt of the narrow lane was marred by the occasional dull spark of a spent shell. It came to Troy how depressing it must be for Dietrich to walk through the landscape and remember it, as it must have been.

That led him back to his original confusion over the walk. “Dietrich, why are we out here?”

Dietrich stopped, lowering his head but not turning. Troy waited. Quietly, Dietrich said, “I am afraid of you being here.”

Shrugging into the heavy Army coat, Troy took a careful step forward, as if approaching a startled cat. “Why?”

“Because you will be leaving and then –“

“Leaving?” Troy controlled his voice, fighting off his normal temper; something he had been forced through his injures to learn how to control. The anger didn’t do any good and only resulted in broken objects. But the broken words of his next sentence revealed his disquiet. “I'm… not going…any… anywhere.”

Dietrich’s head came up and he squared his shoulders before turning to face Troy. Troy’s breath caught at the gentle, loving light in the dark eyes, yet, behind the love was pain and loss. “You can’t stay.”

“What?” He hadn’t meant it to come out so harshly but not even his newly- learned patience could stand against such a stupid statement.

“Troy—“

Troy dropped one cane, grabbing Dietrich with his good hand. He spun Dietrich around to face him. “I di…did….no..no” He gave up, growling in absolute confusion, jerked Dietrich to him and took him in a hard, desperate kiss.

Dietrich tried to jerk away; with only one cane to support him the movement threw Troy off balance, tumbling them both into the wet slush. Despite the cold that suddenly surrounded him, Troy shifted his weight so that he had Dietrich pinned under him. He might not be able to fight like he used to but he had an advantage in this match – he knew Dietrich would not hurt him.

It took a minute to fall back into the speech pattern that he had first learned in the desert, in the long months when he had struggled against the lasting effects of the near-fatal head injury. “I did not. Wait this long. Come this far. Across two. Con.. continents. To have. You be scared –“

There was a rush of air and Troy was the one on the ground, Dietrich straddling his hips. The dark brown eyes were blazing above him, filled with anger and sorrow. “Afraid? Is that what you think this is? This has nothing to do with what anyone would think or do about the two of us!” 

And as quickly as it hit, the light faded, leaving only the sorrow. Dietrich flipped his long legs over Troy and landed with a thud in the icy dirt. Troy struggled into a sitting position, ignoring the cold and creeping chill. Silence claimed them and he once more waited

“This trail comes out on the rail line,” Dietrich started. “I have walked it all my life, following the tracks to the road then following the road down to the lake. It is a pleasant walk. It was one of the things I would think of when the desert became too much.”

Troy nodded, understanding the images of home that helped get men through the war. Toward the end of his time in the desert though, before he taken by the SS and tortured, he had found himself thinking less of home. 

Dietrich took a deep, shaky breath. “I had been working with British intelligence in front of the advance since D-Day. When the advance reached the Rhine, I realized that there was very little left to do. So I came home. A few weeks after I returned, but before the British arrived, I took this walk, even though I knew it might be dangerous to be caught out here by either side.”

For a moment Troy thought of asking what had gone wrong but he was afraid of interrupting.

“There was a new spur on the rail track,” Dietrich said quietly. “I followed it to its end.”

A shiver went down Troy’s back at the absolute sorrow in the words. Dietrich noticed the shake, though, and suddenly came to his feet. Remembering the earlier lesson, he offered his arm to Troy. Torn between demanding the rest and needing to get warm, Troy reluctantly took his arm. When Troy was on his feet, Dietrich handed him his cane, then turned in the direction they had been walking. 

“Dietrich,” Troy called, stopping him. “What’s at the end of the track?”

Dietrich didn’t turn, only straightened, the too lean muscles tightening. 

“Dietrich, what’s at the end of the track?”

Only the clear winter air allowed him to hear Dietrich’s soft answer. “Buchenwald.”

Dietrich put another log on the fire. They had not talked, or even looked much at each other since their conversation on the road. They had changed in the bedroom together, separated by years and by experiences. Once Troy was in dry clothes and wrapped in a blanket, he had sat quietly while Dietrich tended the fire. Now, there was nothing left to do but face the questions started in the cold of the countryside, the questions that had weighted on Dietrich’s soul for five years. He shivered despite the fire.

He started to speak, but Troy cut him off. “Why do you want me to leave?”

Coming up and around, Dietrich stared at him. “How can you ask that of me?”

“You told me about the camp,” Troy said. “I understand—“

“Do you!?” Dietrich’s fear and shame made him snap. “How can you say that? How can you think…that seeing some, what motion pictures would let you understand? I saw. I am German.”

He came to a stop, once more turning toward the fire. How to start? Where to start? Dietrich couldn’t even put words to the feelings – guilt was not heavy enough. And there were the excuses he could make, the same ones he had tried to make to himself for years. He had not believed them, why would Troy?

“This is what was bothering you,” Troy said quietly. 

Dietrich turned, finding Troy staring into the fire. “What?”

Troy lifted sorrowful eyes up toward him. "This is what you warned me about, in the desert. You said when I… I found out cert… certain things, to not think badly of you."

Glancing away, Dietrich recalled the whispered promise, how he had begged Troy to understand. But that had been before… before Dietrich had seen….

"When I asked that of you,” Dietrich explained, "I didn't know how bad… I didn’t know… everything."  
A cold hand touched his back, making him jump. He was startled to find Troy kneeling behind him. There was sympathy and understanding on Troy's handsome face - two things Dietrich did not deserve. He slid away, out of Troy's reach. 

"You can't understand,” Dietrich repeated. The anger was gone now, leaving only emptiness. 

"Maybe I can't. But if you tell me. I can help,” Troy ordered.

Dietrich looked over, surprised at the heat in Troy's steady voice. He wanted to say no one could help but the desperation he could see in the blue eyes, the desire to make things better, made him sit back down. 

For a few minutes only the sound of the fire crackling broke the silence. With a sigh, Dietrich said, "My town here was never very large and still quite isolated. We knew of the changes in law, of the revoking of Jewish citizenship, but the destruction of shops and synagogues, the burning books, all seemed very far away. I was in the Army training near the Austrian border when Crystal Night happened. My mother told me that of the dozen Jewish families nearby, a few left after that. The others seemed to think it would pass."

Troy's hand settled once more on his arm, and this time he allowed it to remain. "My mother died a few months before you came to my care."

"Rudolph told me," Troy said.

Nodding, Dietrich continued, "When I came home for the funeral… things were… different." He stared at the fire. "I had only been home twice since going to Africa. Things had changed each time I came home, small things, but this was … worse."

Troy slid closer, his arm going around Dietrich's shoulders. For just a second Dietrich allowed the comfort, for just a second leaning back. With an effort, he straightened. He picked up the fireplace poker and stirred the logs into bigger flames.

"That last trip home, all the Jewish families were gone.” Dietrich took a deep breath, memories turning his voice softer with each word. “I tried to find out where they had gone but was told, sometimes joyfully, sometimes fearfully, that they had been relocated to the "east". But I knew there was no "east." And there were others - my minister had been arrested for being a Socialist; a neighbor taken for nothing more than trading with a Gypsy,”

“I wanted to make inquires, try to find out more about the… relocation centers, but I had to return to Africa.” He lowered his head, too ashamed of his failure to face Troy. “I did nothing else.”

"There wasn’t anything you could have done,” Troy said in an even voice.

That was the last thing Dietrich wanted to hear; it was the excuse he had tried to convince himself of for too many years. He came to his feet so quickly that Troy fell back away from him, landing on his elbows on the hard floor. 

Dietrich stared at him for a moment, then whirled away, pacing the length of the room. "I should have done something! Do you know how many more died before the end? How many would have been saved if I had done… something!"

"What?"

The quiet word cut through Dietrich's shame and anger. "What?"

Troy was still lying where he'd been pushed. "What could you have done?" he asked levelly.

For a moment, Dietrich only stared, trying to gather his thoughts. “I should –“

“Not should. Not might have. Not finding out!” Troy snapped. “Could. Have. Done!”

“I could have stayed!” Dietrich returned. “I could have defected then, helped stopped the insanity sooner.”

Troy pushed up into a sitting position. “And I’d be dead. Maybe Rudolph and Brin. How many more? Most of your men? I know about. The Jewish settlement. You saved. From Brandt.”

Dietrich sank to the cold stone floor, eyes locked with Troy. The complicated eyes held so much sincerity, some much belief in what Troy was saying. He closed his eyes, afraid of the forgiveness Troy was offering. “I have told myself that I did my best… but… it was so little.”

“Not to those in that village,” Troy whispered. He touched Dietrich’s arm again. “Not to me.”

The words were soothing and when Dietrich once more met Troy’s gaze, the love he could see was confirmed by the understanding sorrow on Troy’s face. Troy took Dietrich’s hand, brought it up and held it to his chest. “I’m sorry that you couldn’t save. More innocents. But you saved many more. Than most did.”

The warmth of his skin reached through the flannel shirt, spread through Dietrich’s hand, soaked into his blood. By pressing a little, he could feel Troy’s heartbeat, solid, real. The truth of Troy’s love and survival was carried in that warmth and that beat. For the first time in as long as Dietrich could remember, the chill that had permeated his soul thawed just a little. 

“So many….” Dietrich choked, trying to hold back the tears that the warmth had released. “They made us walk through the camp after….”

“Aw, damn…” Troy whispered.

Strong arms pulled him into Troy’s embrace, held him tight and safe. Once, safe in Dietrich's arms, Troy had given vent to his sorrow over the loss of Hitchcock, now Dietrich let his tears come, crying for the loss of so many innocent lives and a country’s soul. He felt Troy’s hand stroke down his back, heard the faraway words of comfort but the storm only gained in intensity and for a long time all he could do was let the release come. 

Troy held on, knowing there was nothing else to do. When he had first seen the pictures of the camps, first read the reports, he had not actually believed them. He knew only too well how propaganda worked. Gradually, though, the reality of what the camps had been became apparent. Anger and a strange sense of confusion had claimed him. How could any country, under any circumstances, do something so horrendous, so monstrous? Yet through all the emotions, one thing had been clear – he knew Dietrich would have never condoned it.

He kissed the head bowed against his chest. “I nev…never thought… about you hav…having anything… to do with it.” 

It was true; even as he cursed the Germans, a part of him never included Dietrich in that equation. Holding tight to the man he loved, Troy wondered a little at that. Was it blind love or something else? The answer was simple. He knew without a doubt, without thought or need to examine the reason – Dietrich was an honorable warrior, a man who understood the civilized rules of war.

Shifting to put his mouth close to Dietrich’s ear, he said, “You are… what was good in Germany… what will be again. Honor. Compassion, even to your enemies.”

The sobs died down a little, and Troy wondered if Dietrich was listening to him or if it was just the guilt burning itself out. Either way, he wasn’t going to let go or stay silent. “I love you. I know everything about you. And I love you.”

When Dietrich next became aware of anything, it was the faint blue flames left of the roaring fire. He was leaning on Troy, the flannel was wet under his cheek and Troy was stroking his back. For a bit longer, Dietrich stayed there, feeling… odd. The huge chasm of guilt and shame was not gone; that wouldn't happen so easily, but it had diminished enough that he felt strangely lost, drifting. 

Caring, warm lips brushed across his temple. Tilting his head up, he stared into Troy’s concerned expression. The drifting faded, the love shining in Troy's eyes, anchoring him, giving him harbor. Dietrich shifted around, kissed Troy's cheek.

"Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely.

Troy nodded. "Returning the favor."

Pulling back, a shaft of sunlight hit Dietrich in the face, making him blink. He was startled to find it just after noon. Wiping at his face, he said, "I thought scenes like this only occurred at night."

"Under a bomber's moon,” Troy added.

Climbing to his feet, Dietrich reached down and helped Troy into the chair. Troy was watching him, obviously wondering if what had happened had helped. They hadn't really settled anything, Dietrich realized but for the moment, he wanted to enjoy the new feeling of lightness flooding his chest. He needed time to adjust, to get use to the idea that maybe he had done his best, maybe he had even saved a few lives – maybe he and Troy had a future. Maybe there was more to the world than just living through today. 

"Troy --"

"I'm hungry,” Troy announced. He grabbed Dietrich's arm and hauled himself to his feet. "Hand me my canes."

Still almost dazed by his new reality, Dietrich didn't understand how Troy could be thinking of food. A slow smile traced across Troy's handsome face, making Dietrich realize that Troy had, as so many times before, figured out what Dietrich was thinking – and what he needed. Right now, he needed time. They had once more faced the worst and come through it.

Dietrich shifted his hold and pulled Troy into a hug, holding him close and steady. Troy's lips brushed his throat, his arms urging Dietrich even closer. They stood there for a long time, offering and taking comfort.

"So,” Troy finally said, easing away, "you gonna cook this time?"

Dietrich smiled at him. "Would you like me to?"

"Only if it's something besides potato soup."

He was ready this time, waiting for the nightmares to hit Dietrich. They had come to bed three hours before, just after dark, both exhausted from the emotional storm they had been through. Through the snow-enhanced moonlight, Troy watched his love sleeping.

To help them both recover, the afternoon had been spent in small talk, mostly from Troy. There had been a few amusing stories from his time in the hospital to the meeting between him and Tully again. There had been sorrow too, as Troy related the long letter he had written to Hitchcock’s family, and the warm, thankful response he had received back. When Troy informed Dietrich that not only had Rudolph Stantz survived the war but his wife and daughter as well, there had been tears of joy from the former Wehrmacht captain. 

Buchenwald and everything it meant was forgotten for a few hours.

The first soft sigh had awakened Troy, and he knew what was coming, knew the restlessness from his own nightmares. There was a small gasp from Dietrich, making Troy lean closer. A tremble went through the lean body next to him. Troy wrapped his arms around Dietrich and kissed him softly, waking him in the easiest way he knew. Dietrich stiffened in his embrace for an instant and Troy thought he might fight him. A deep sigh followed though and the lips under his returned the kiss. 

Troy pulled back, staring down into Dietrich’s eyes. “Okay?”

Without answering, Dietrich touched Troy’s cheek and slipped out of bed, wincing as his feet touched the cold floor. Dietrich reached for the robe hanging on the end of the headboard. Troy waited, ready to follow if Dietrich left the room. Dietrich only paced away, then back, hugging the thin robe tight. Knowing it would take more than one afternoon to shake the nightmares, Troy shifted up, lit the lantern by the bed.

“Tell me?” Troy queried as the golden light flooded the small room, knowing Dietrich would understand.

Dietrich shrugged. “It’s vague, more feelings than images.”

“Tell me.”

Dietrich turned away from him, toward the frosted window. There was a long silence. Troy could see the shivers running up Dietrich’s back but didn’t know if they were from the cold of the room or the chill of his dream. Just as Troy started to struggle off the bed, Dietrich turned.

The moonlight cast the room in monochrome, hiding the color of Dietrich’s eyes but highlighting the intensity of his gaze. “I’m feeling…. Not lost anymore… but not… home yet.”

For a minute Dietrich’s wording confused him, but thinking about his own feelings many years earlier Troy understood what he was saying. When he had returned to England, even when he had been with his brother, talking about home, there had been an absence, a hole in his future. At the time, Troy had thought it was only his longing for Dietrich. Now, he could still feel it, though not as strongly, a need for something more, a need for someplace – theirs.

Before he could find a way to ask what they were to do about it, Dietrich came and knelt in front of him. “I can’t stay here.”

Troy brushed his hand through Dietrich’s hair. “I know.”

“I stayed… I hoped that… if I stayed here, somehow you would find me.”

“We’re together now. We just need to find a place.” Hesitantly, he suggested, “We could go to the US.”

That brought a smile to Dietrich’s pale face. “I am not a war bride, Troy. I doubt, for the foreseeable future that getting me to America would be an easy task.”

With a rueful smile, Troy admitted, “Not sure I want to go back.” That obviously surprised Dietrich. “Too hard…. They would mean well but…. Too mu… much like… trying to be…like before.”

Dietrich joined him on the edge of the bed. Lines of thought appeared along his forehead. Troy twisted around and kissed him. And a long, casual thought from a dark English pub came back to Troy. 

Pulling back, Troy asked, “Can you make beer?”

The look of total confusion that Dietrich gave him made Troy start laughing. It was a few minutes before he managed to stop. Dietrich was still staring at him. “What?”

“Tunisia,” Troy said simply. “Lots of Brits still there. They’ll need pubs.”

Dietrich was still lost. “Tunisia? But… you want to go back to the desert, back to where….”

“Best thing in my life happened there,” Troy answered, brushing his lips along Dietrich’s chin.

“A bar?” Dietrich said, sounding as if he were testing the idea. “’Troy’s Café Americana’?”

Troy laughed again. “More like bar and grill.” In a reasonable tone, he continued, “Cheap there right now. Warm Meditearrean, used to be a hot spot, could be again.”

“The desert was beautiful.”

“Beautiful water,” Troy corrected. “Cool, wet.”

The smile on Dietrich’s face, faded a bit. “How can we afford it?”

Troy moved, knocking Dietrich over on his back and straddling his hips. “We’ll manage.” He flipped open the robe, started kissing down Dietrich’s chest. “Worry about the details later.”

“You always were rather good at ‘winging it’,” Dietrich laughed, hands tightening around Troy’s waist.

Troy’s answer was to change his target from Dietrich’s chest to his lips, kissing lightly along them, then over his cheeks and up into his hair. When he eased back though, he was once more serious. “It could work. I have some savings. And disability pay.”

Dietrich’s expression was thoughtful. “American dollars would buy a lot there now.”

Troy smiled, seeing that his insane idea was actually going to work. “Told you. Nothing we can’t do together.”

The gaze that connected with his carried love and unflagging trust. Troy swallowed hard, lost in the sable-colored eyes. “I love you,” he whispered.

Strong arms wrapped around him, pulled him in for a long kiss. Dietrich’s tongue twinned with his, sucking, sending lines of fire down his nerves. When he eased away and looked down once more at his lover, for a moment he lost the ability to breathe. Dietrich’s eyes glittered with passion, and more importantly, with a confidence that Troy had not seen since early in the war, since they had faced each other over raised weapons. Very slowly, a smile curled his lips.

This was the man he had fallen in love with - the assured, cocky Wehrmacht captain. The smile grew a little as Troy realized that for the first time he could remember, he also felt like he had during those early days, when they were taking on the best Germany had to offer – and winning. Dietrich smiled back, revealing in the feelings of certainty and trust that filled the room.

Laughing, Troy claimed Dietrich’s mouth, sucking hard against Dietrich’s tongue, grinding his hips down, hands carding through Dietrich’s soft hair. The feelings of confidence changed, turning into waves of lust and heat that emptied the room of oxygen, filled it with excitement and need. Dietrich’s fingers were fighting with the buttons on Troy’s shirt, even as Troy was trying to untie the belt on the thin cotton robe. With a growl of pure arousal, Dietrich knocked his hands away, shifted out from under Troy and ripped the robe off. 

With a wicked smile, Troy did the same to his shirt, bringing a similar expression to Dietrich’s face. Dietrich moved first, taking Troy in a deep, near bruising kiss, driving his tongue hard into Troy’s willing mouth. Troy let himself be guided back into the bed, raised his hips as Dietrich pulled off the drawstring pants. The cold air of the room should have been a shock but Troy didn’t notice. As Dietrich reached for him, Troy shoved him over and began to lick the full, hard cock.

Dietrich gasped, hands tangling in Troy’s hair. “Troy! Yes, yes….”

Troy’s hand tightened around the base of the big shaft, pumping in rhythm to his sucking. A moan sounded from Dietrich’s throat, became a low, drawn out cry of Troy’s name. Troy only increased his moves. When Dietrich thrust up into his mouth, though, he pulled away. “Troy….” Dietrich moaned.

Leaning towards the nightstand, Troy retrieved the jar of gel still open from the previous night. As he shifted back, he stopped, staring at Dietrich, taken by the sheer passion coloring the sable eyes, by the wanton flush on the pale face. Heat flared along his nerves, arched through his back and down his stomach, gathered along his cock.  
“Damn, Dietrich…”

Instead of answering him, Dietrich held out his hand, silently requesting the gel. Troy only shook his head in denial, pouring the stuff into his own hand. His oiled hands slipped down Dietrich’s stomach, bringing another moan. Troy watched the way the oil turned the pale skin shine cv, watching the big shaft darken with each of his touches. Finally, he took Dietrich’s cock in both hands, coating it with the slipper stuff, entranced by the play of light across the glistening flesh. When he looked back up, though, Dietrich was regarding him in some confusion.

“Troy?”

Shifting again, Troy straddled Dietrich’s hips, leaning forward to kiss him, tongue sliding into wet heat. The oiled cock thrust up into his stomach, raked across his own partially risen shaft. He sucked Dietrich’s tongue into his mouth, sliding around it like a small cock. Dietrich moaned deep in his chest, hips thrusting up again.

Troy shifted, putting Dietrich’s cock into the crevice of his ass, sitting up straighter. Worry entered Dietrich’s dark eyes. “Troy, I don’t want…”

Giving him his best grin, Troy said, “You don’t want…. This? I don’t believe that.”

“That isn’t want I was going to say,” Dietrich protested, through his breath was coming faster as Troy reached behind him and began to pump his cock. “You have not been…. I didn’t put any….”

Taking pity on him, Troy once more kissed him. “Don’t need anything right now but your cock.”

Before Dietrich could find breath for an answer to that, Troy pressed down. He threw his head back as the stiff cock pushed through the muscle, bringing some pain and a wave of heat hotter than the Sahara had ever offered. Dietrich gasped under him, hands tightening on Troy’s thighs, teeth clamped over his bottom lip as he fought to keep from giving into his body’s demand to thrust. Troy rose up just slightly, then sank down, driving Dietrich’s cock deeper, feeling sunlight in his nerves with each move. Two more times, Troy pushed up and down, until he felt the hard balls pressed tight against his ass. He started moving, sliding up and down the hard shaft. The rhythm was as natural as breathing and he gave himself to it, lost in the fervor and lust. 

“Troy…. Yes, God, that is ….” Dietrich swallowed hard, his hands slipping off Troy’s leg and bunching in the sheet.

Troy smiled, loving the fact that he could do this, that he could drive the proper German to such abandon. Even as he kept the rhythm, he leaned forward and kissed Dietrich, moaning at the taste and fire. Pulling back, he watched Dietrich, using the sight of his lover to keep the incredible sensations ripping through his body at bay. Dietrich’s eyes were closed, his mouth partial open as he tried to breath through the flames taking him. It was too much for Troy, his cock swelled with each tiny movement of Dietrich’s cock. Despite his best effort, when Troy next lowered himself on the big shaft, a moan forced itself from his throat. 

It was lost in the gasping plea from Dietrich. “Please, need to….”

“I know what you need,” Troy whispered huskily. “Do it. Hard and deep, want to watch you come.”

On the last word, Troy slammed down, driving Dietrich’s cock as far into his body as he could, twisting and grinding. Dietrich cried out, hands moving, clenching at Troy’s waist, flickering over his nipples, down his back. Troy’s cock swelled, scraped across Dietrich’s stomach with each move. Troy arched back, crying out as the radiance raced through his body.

Dietrich’s hands slipped around him, grabbing his ass, moving him, urging him up, increasing the pace. The solid cock began to move faster, pistioning in and out, punctuated by the panting breaths from both men, the soft sound of oiled flesh in oiled flesh. Time and place lost meaning, Troy’s whole reality narrowed down to the driving thrusts. He kept his eyes open, fought off the brilliance burning through him, fought off the need to give into the pressure pounding through his blood. Faraway, Troy heard the hitch in Dietrich’s breathing, remembered it from desert days, remembered it from dreams and wishes. 

Troy arched back, shifted his legs even wider and held tight to Dietrich’s strong shoulders. Dietrich slammed into him once, twice more then he went rigid, his whole body arching up, reaching deep into Troy’s body and soul. A harsh moan, broken by gasps for breath, filled the night but Troy didn’t hear it. The final shove from Dietrich turned the sparks into flames, sent rivers of heat through his body. He grabbed his own cock, gave it two quick pumps, felt the release rip through him, felt the hot fluid splash over Dietrich’s chest. His eyes closed, colors exploding in the darkness. Then the only thing in the world was finding air.

A touch to his cheek brought him back to the cold room. Troy opened his eyes, found himself staring down at a look of love more incredible then he could ever imagine. He took Dietrich’s hand off his cheek, kissed the palm, held it over his heart again. 

“I love you,” he whispered, still trying to find his voice.

Dietrich smiled, though there was an edge of sadness to it. “In all the world, that is the one thing I am sure of.”

Troy leaned down, felt Dietrich’s cock slip free. He claimed the full, sensuous mouth, kissed long and hard. When he eased away and collapsed over to the side, he smiled at Dietrich. “Nah, lots of other things to be sure of.” A patient, waiting-for-it look filled the chocolate-colored eyes. “That we’ll always be together. That there’s nothing we can’t do together. That I make a mean Chicago pizza.”

Each statement was punctuated with a kiss along Dietrich’s lips, cheeks, ear, until the German was laughing quietly. Finally, Dietrich held up his hands in surrender. “Very well, perhaps there are a few other things.”

“Yeah?”

“That you are a resourceful, dangerous man,” Dietrich said seriously. A smile lifted his lips. “And that I can, indeed, make beer.”

Troy felt the smile light his chest. He gave Dietrich the cocky grin that he knew very well drove the man crazy. “Then we got all we need – pizza, beer, and love.”


End file.
